Chapter 3: Dressed and Directed
The latches gave, and Flip lifted the lid. The box breathed out a smell of lavender sachets and old fabric, and Jacqui reached in before he could arrange anything.
"Panties on top," she said, flipping through with both hands. "Of course they are." She held up a pair of black lace ones, then a pink cotton pair with a little bow, then a third, thong, red. She laid each one out on the floor like cards in a spread. Then the skirt, a black pleated one. Then a cropped cardigan, a slip of a thing, a pair of thigh highs with a run in one.
"You've been busy." She looked up at him from where she knelt. He was still on his knees beside the box, sweatpants around his thighs, his caged cock out in the lamplight, aching. "Which of these do you wear most?"
"The pink ones," he said. "And the skirt."
"The pink ones." She pressed the pink cotton pair to his lips. "Hold these. I'm picking your outfit, and I don't want your opinion."
He held the panties between his teeth while she sorted through the box, tutting at a bralette she set aside, coming back with the red thong and the skirt and, after a moment's thought, the thigh highs. She stood and stepped back to look at him the way she'd looked at the glass toy, under the lamp, appraising.
"Up. Sweatpants off. All the way."
He stood on shaking legs and pushed the sweats and boxers down and off. The cage swung free between his legs, the little padlock tapping his thigh, and Jacqui's eyes went straight to it and stayed there a beat longer than she meant to, he could tell.
"Step in."
She held the red thong out at ankle height like a stirrup. He stepped into it, one foot and then the other, and she drew them up his legs slowly, watching the lace seat of them settle over his ass, tugging the waistband high so the little bow sat centered below the ring of the cage. His trapped cock strained uselessly against the silicone and gave up.
"Turn around. Bend over."
He did. He felt her look. He felt his face go scarlet, and he felt, worse, the wet throb of the ache he'd loved alone for years, and now she was standing behind him seeing it, and his thighs shivered.
"Fucking gorgeous," she said. "Your ass in lace. Who knew. Sit back down, put the skirt on."
He sat on the floor and worked the pleated skirt up his legs, and the zipper at the side was fiddly with his hands unsteady, and she crouched to help him, her fingers brushing his hip, making him flinch with the whole of his skin.
"Stand up for me." She fastened the last of the zipper and stepped back. "Spin."
"Spin?"
"You heard me. Spin."
He turned in a slow circle, the skirt flaring out at the bottom, the thong and the cage flashing beneath, and Jacqui clapped once, a sharp bright sound, and then covered her mouth.
"Okay," she said, low. "Okay, that did something to me. I'm not going to pretend it didn't." She sat down on the edge of the bed, knees apart, dress riding up her thighs, and pointed at the drawer. "The black one. The big one you had to work up to. Get it. And your rope."
He crawled to the drawer on his knees because it felt like what she wanted, and it was, he could hear her breath change behind him. He brought back the black dildo and the coil of red rope, and she took the rope out of his hands.
"Wrists behind your back. Cross them."
She tied him. She tied him well, too, some knot she must have known from somewhere, cinching his crossed wrists and then binding them with neat turns, and when she tugged to test it his whole body had nowhere to go. The skirt sat bunched around his hips. His caged cock hung out over the lace, dripping a thin clear line from the tip, swollen purple around the edges of the silicone.
"Look at you," she said. "What a picture. On your knees, hands tied, skirt up, wearing a little padlock. Now suck that cock."
He leaned forward over the black dildo where it stood in her hand, and she did not steady it for him. She held it just out of reach so he had to strain after it, wrists straining against the rope, and she watched him chase it with his mouth until she let it touch his lips.
"Slow," she said. "Show me how you take it. All of it, eventually. I'll tell you when you can."
He opened and fed it in. The fat head filled his mouth first, pushing his tongue flat, and he slicked it with spit the way he knew how, working his head in little circles, taking an inch, then another. Behind him she reached into the drawer without warning and he heard the click of the machine's remote lifting out of it, and then he heard her thumb find a switch, and a soft hum started somewhere near the bed, and his whole body went hot.
"That's just to remind you it's there," Jacqui said. "Keep going."
He worked down the shaft, gagging at the halfway point, backing off, going again, his throat opening around the thick of it by degrees. The rope creaked when he strained. His caged cock swung and dripped onto the hardwood, and every drop he heard hit the floor made him burn.
"Deeper." She pushed the dildo forward into his mouth, her hand on the base now, controlling the pace. "Take what I give you. Swallow around it."
He swallowed. The head pushed into his throat and the stretch burned and he moaned around it, eyes streaming, and she fed him another inch, and another, until his chin pressed down against the molded base of it and his nose was buried against her knuckles and his throat was completely full.
"There it is," she breathed. "There's my star pupil. Balls to your chin again and your hands tied this time. Does that feel good? Nod."
He nodded, and the movement of the nod made the head shift inside his throat, and he groaned so hard his whole chest shook.
"Good boy." She drew it out slow, an endless wet pull, and he gasped and coughed and slicked the whole black shaft with spit and tears. "Now, here's the game. You're going to beg for every inch. I push in, you beg for the next one. You don't get to just take it anymore. Somebody else has to give it to you."
"You're serious," he said, hoarse, spit on his chin.
"I've never been more serious about anything in my life." She placed the head back against his lips, not pushing. "Start."